The Wrong Planet
by dissatisfieduser
Summary: During the Spring Offensive of 1918, and inopportune disturbance on another world changes the future of three worlds in ways no one could have anticipated. Alternate History.
1. Chapter 1

**Tanaan Jungle, Unkown date on the Orcish Calendar**

Gul'dan stepped over a fallen vine freshly cut by the orderlies ahead of him. Conquest lay ahead. The trek through the jungle was fraught with danger, requiring him to take a larger retinue ahead of the Horde in order to best accomplish the plan his master had set. The Horde thirsts for blood and Gul'dan had every intention to sate its growing appetite. Like a slavering dog, the green mass a kilometre behind him followed the scent it had picked up, single-minded and acting like a single body. Power beckons. Breaking out of the trees, Gul'dan saw the object that would give hi—The Horde, unlimited power. Standing proudly upon a great stepped pedestal, adorned by arcane figures, was the Dark Portal. Swirling with the energies of the Warp, Gul'dan could feel the fel powers emanating from the rectangular centre, but it was not complete. Even though the Portal was activated, it was not yet primed—stepping through the portal would take the passenger to a random location in the Great Dark, not any specific location. Fortunately, Gul'dan's liaison on the targeted world, Azeroth, knew the proper address. This was why he was here at this moment ahead of the Horde. Closing his eyes, he opened his mind to the Twisting Nether. Azeroth awaits.

**Tower of Karazhan, Year 592 King's Calendar**

Sargeras could feel the tug of his pawn's mind across the Twisting Nether. He moved his human body into the focusing pentagram hidden under the rug of his office and began to interface with the Orc. Just as he was supplying the last of the magical coordinates of this world, the door abruptly opened.

"Master Medivh, sir I…"

**Belgium, Near Ypres, April 9th, 1918**

Tobias Reiniger clutched his rifle closely as he peered out of the crater he was hiding in. Artillery and sniper fire constantly harassed the enemy lines so they could not focus on the infiltration manoeuvre that Tobias and his squad were involved in. At the moment they were to attempt to take a position that would allow them to destroy the enemy artillery and wreak havoc in the enemy lines, allowing follow-up troops to mop up. The grey clouds of the battlefield occasionally glowed orange and shells impacted the earth around him. Tobias had a real fear that a shell would land in the crater he had taken position in. All the while waiting for the next major volley which would signal the advance, Tobias noticed an odd green glow in the distance to his right.

**The Dark Portal**

Gul'dan mentally keyed in the address given to him by his master. He worried that it wouldn't work since his master seemed quite agitated near the end. But his fears were removed when the portal flashed and fizzled in arcane energies, building the fel tunnel that would carry the Orcish race to new heights of power and glory. He stepped back and spread his arms as the assembled Horde below bellowed, the blood of demons surging in their veins.

"ONWARDS! TO GLORY! FOR THE HORDE!"

**In a crater near Ypres**

Tobias watched in silent shock as a great… purple thing suddenly appeared about a kilometre away. It pushed away the fog of war like a child's toy displacing the water of a bathtub. The only sounds were the low rumble of distant artillery and the static buzzing of the thing. Soldiers on both sides stopped and stared, suddenly unafraid of the snipers that had preyed on them for four long years. The petrified quiet reigned for a minute as officers lost their tongues and soldiers forgot their orders. Then the insanity intensified.

Out of the encroaching mists, a disembodied voice rasped:

"_LOK-REGAR! LOK-NARASH! LOK. TAR. OGARR!"*_

_*_Ready your orders! Arm yourselves! Victory or Death!

* * *

So begins my first fanfiction. As the reader may have guessed, this is an alternate history scenario where Khadgar screws up the invasion of Azeroth. Due to his untimely disturbance, the Orcs invade Earth during World War 1 rather than the Kingdom of Azeroth in peacetime. The nations Azeroth will be involved in the sequel and the Burning Legion in a third story, roughly corresponding with WW1, WW2, and the Cold War.


	2. Chapter 2

**Feldwebel Tobias Reiniger, Near Ypres, April 9th, 1918**

Schieße Schieße Schieße. Tobias ran full speed back towards the German lines, his spine crawling from the beastial screams emanating from the green mass. They were like water, flowing and filling the British trenches, slaughtering men like some sort of unstoppable tide. He hopped over the final line of barbed wire and ducked into the trench. The soldiers apprehensively staring at the carnage all turned to look at him. One asked, "What's happening? There was a light and then there were screams."

Tobias looked him and many others in the eyes, "They came from a purple portal-arch (the frame of a door is sometimes called a portal) that was glowing green. Suddenly there was a shout, a war cry of some kind, and a swarm of green muscled mass just poured out of the thing."

"What did they look like?"

"What do they want?"

"THEY'RE COMING!"

Tobias turned around and, indeed, a portion of the green tide had turned around and was heading towards them. By the grace of god, no men cracked; instead, they turned to the menace and poured lead at them. Having the benefit of forewarning that the British had sorely lacked, machine gun fire was able to take down a great deal of the beasts, running around as they were bare-chested. An explosion in their midst, artillery or mortar? Either way, it was an exemplification of their dire situation. Getting closer, Tobias could see that they were powered by some sort of inhuman power: their eyes glowed an angry red, muscles engorged in an unnatural manner, and still running despite multiple wounds. The man beside him stopped firing, Tobias feared he had cracked, but fitted his bayonet to the front of his rifle. Tobias did the same.

An officer, seemingly having materialised behind them some time ago bellowed, "Ready yourselves."

Tobias had seen swords and axes before, the latter he used occasionally to chop wood and the latter in more tame environments like museums. But to face them up close on the battlefield, some of them glowing with some sort of arcane energy, was nothing short of terrifying. By instinct, he leant forward and speared one in the stomach. It kept writhing on the pointed steel, refusing to believe that it had died. Hastily pulling his rifle away, Tobias ducked under a swing aimed for his neck. He knelt on one knee, brought the rifle up, and blasted the offending beast's head into a billion bloody pieces. Having used up all of his ammunition, he dropped the rifle and picked up the glowing sword with skull motifs. It was heavy, he noticed, leaning back from a slash, but not heavy for him to bring it down in a devastating arc. The green demon was clearly not a pushover since he brought up his axe in a two–handed grip over his head, blocking the overhead. Staggering back a few steps, tobias drew back the sword for a right to left slash, but in doing so got the point embedded in the wood lining the trench. His adversary grinned darkly and rapidly advanced. Then a hole appeared in his torso. It brought its axe to its right ear. Another hole, this time higher up. The beast jolted. Then its head was gone. The officer from before stood behind the corpse, a Luger pistol in his right and an officer's sabre in the other.

"Well soldier?" then he turned around and shot another of the beasts.

Briefly admiring the strength required to severe the head of the densely muscled beasts, Tobias grabbed the sword stuck in the wall and charged forward.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sergeant Nicholas Howard, British Expeditionary Force**

**Slightly north of Ypres, Belgium, April 12**

The Green Menace, or Orcs as the press preferred to refer to them as, had been battering at the lines for three days now and were now camped in the ruins close by. Orcs. It made some sense, having perused some books on the underworld in Latin. Orcus being the deity of the underworld and the infernal regions. Since those green monstrosities were so demonic in appearance, they could only have come from a place good Christian men did not upon death.

"Ah bugger, just when we all thought the Jerries were bad enough, those Orcs had to show up." It was Private Smith, recently shipped in from Britain.

"They're fighting the Jerries too you fucknut," remarked a soldier.

"Just wished they could have shown up somewhere else. Maybe the Somme? They could use some buggering up."

"Wouldn't want to wish that on anybody, we're barely holding back this swarm of green."

"Heh. Swarm near Ypres. I like it."

"Private Smith, that's not even pleasant to the ear. Now close that fluttering piece of meat or there will be a reduction of rations."

Private Smith grumbled a bit but shut up. Nicholas felt a pang of regret for using such a harsh threat for something so trifle, but the men did not need idle gossip, not when the enemy was within bowshot.

Those Orcs had taken to pelting his company with arrows and green fire from the supposed safety of the ruins since yesterday. Artillery was focused on the more troublesome area further south where the Portal to Hell had opened up; therefore, any sort of indirect fire was not directed to this little slice of hell in front of him.

"Those Orcs, they're not so scary after you skewer them in the guts. They die like any man." Private Smith was going to hungry for the next week then.

Before Nicholas could lay down the hammer of justice, another soldier spoke up: "Yes, a man who was born with two hearts and no nervous system to speak of."

Nicholas narrowly dodged an arrow, giving Smith the time to retort: "Then I suppose we should take those fancy swords of theirs and skewer them about."

There was an idea in that, actually. Nicholas hadn't been ordered to charge since 1916. But there was a problem…

"I don't suppose, Private, you remember the green fire that can burn ten men within two seconds?"

"We could get the blokes in the next trenches to flank them."

"That would leave those trenches open for a German offensive."

"What about the landships?" It was William "Billy" Bailey, recently promoted to Lance Corporal.

Two platoon forced flanking manoeuvres slightly staggered while a force of landships attack the centre? Perhaps doing so when the Germans and Orcs were attacking each other? Hm.

There was suddenly a chorus of guttural cries echoing out of the ruins. Peering over the top, Nicholas saw a ring of green skins wearing black robes dancing around a glowing purple pentagram. Panicking slightly at the unfamiliar and arcane ritual, he turned to his men,

"I want every man capable of firing his rifle to bring down those monsters. I want whatever they're doing stopped."

The platoon readied themselves, amongst the other platoons given similar orders by likewise now-aware officers of the impending disaster. Nicholas quietly gave the order to fire at will and his troops began to fire at the assemblage of orcs. To the great surprise of all, the bullets slowed then dropped a certain distance from their targets, forming a semi-circle of spent ammunition.

There must be some sort of barrier, though Nicholas. It appeared that someone else down the line had the same idea as an order was passed to his hands commanding his troops to fire upon a signal. Nicholas called his men to stop firing and they did so as the sound of gunfire died down on the battlefield.

Then he heard it, a strong voice cutting through the mists: "Make Ready!" It was like something from a century ago, back in the era of orderly lines of battle. "Present Arms!" A great staggered clank from the shifting rifles. "FIRE!"

A great crack like a thousand circus masters whipping a thousand lions blasted across the field. The occasional German poked his head out from the other side, obviously curious regarding the strange British manoeuvre. But the main attraction of this circus was the suddenly visible dome above the orcs. It was cracked in several places and was indeed beginning to fall apart as individual soldiers poured the contents of their clips into the crumbling structure.

In reaction, five of the orcs separated from the circle and began waving their arms and chanting. Green fire lit their hands after several seconds gradually engulfing their forearms. Then they thrust their arms into the air, the fire explosively leaving their limbs and shooting into the grey sky above. This meant only one thing.

"GET TO COVER!"

With that, Nicholas ducked into one of the holes dug into the wall of the trench. Soldiers around him scrambled for cover in mortal fear of being eaten by a fire that seemed to somehow only burn men. Then it rained fire.

It begins with the smaller ones, they drop to the mud and fizzle out after a second. Then they grow larger with every passing heartbeat, some large enough to devour an automobile. Nicholas winced as he saw a man run past, screeching in agony, his entire back being consumed by a vile green flame. He had seen it several times since the appearance of the orcs three days ago and he wasn't used to it like he was to artillery shelling. In many ways, this was far worse. With a shell, you are blown to shreds in an instant, no pain. Here, your body is set alight, using your energy to fuel its blaze. If the fireball is sufficiently large, the person literally becomes a walking bomb.

After five minutes of magical shelling, the fires stopped falling. For a brief moment, Nicholas was taken to a scene of monsoons ending suddenly over his childhood home of Calcutta. The peace was very disquieting: was it truly the end or were they in the eye of the storm? Crawling out of the hole and looking at the still dancing orcs told him there was worse to come.

His men gradually filtered out of their hiding places, numbed to the effect of the barrage by four years of artillery shelling. Another missive was placed in Nicholas' hand, this one saying that no one was to fire until the orcs finished whatever they were doing. Apparently a unit of landcruisers was approaching from the west and artillery was being diverted to aim at their location.

So Nicholas and his men stood and stared, along with the Germans across No Man's Land at the strange performance of green flesh. It held a strange beauty, the sort of repulsive interest one held when watching a snake stalking a mouse before darting forward for the kill. The issue was that the mouse was armed with rifles and tanks and the question was when the snake would strike. After ten minutes, the orcs all knelt as a pillar of purple light rose from the frankly massive pentagram. As the light faded, Nicholas stared in shock and fear at the being that stood surrounded by kneeling orcs.

It was dark green with glowing amber eyes. The torso of a portly man joined to the body of a very stumpy horse with a reptilian tail. Small leathery wings that were more for show than function perched near its shoulder blades. It held a massive spear that reached above its head, which was just above the height of a four-story building.

"Puny mortals" it rumbled, amazingly, in English.

Private Smith fired at it, striking slightly below the eye, the tough hide deflecting the bullet. Other soldiers added their fire, their fear of getting shot for cowardice overcoming their fear of the demon. The thing just laughed, a bass laugh that shook the earth.

"Your weapons are no match—" All of a sudden, flames and smoke spurted out of its face.

An artillery shell. To the face. Another to its massive spine, breaking it with a resounding crack. A crater opened up near its feet. Another hit. The shells just kept coming. Pounding the thing over and over as it screeched in pain like it had never felt pain in a millennia. The orcs desperately tried to conjure another shield but snipers on both sides picked them off.

As the smoke cleared, no evidence of the beast was found as if it had simply vanished into thin air. Seeing their chances at an easy victory destroyed, the orcs poured out of the ruins then ran full speed at the British lines. Nicholas' men fired an unceasing stream of bullets at the horde as machine guns doused the enemy in waves of lead. Yet more orcs seemed to come. They kept charging despite the disproportionate losses. A trail of bodies bled from the main advance like blood from a mortally wounded man. Indeed, they were like a man on his last legs, hoping to make a final blow that took them both out.

His pistol clicked empty and he reached for more ammunition. Finding none, Nicholas drew his looted German Officer's sabre captured in an advance back in 1914. His men eventually ran out of ammunition and they too prepared for melee. There were simply too many to stop, artillery fire had apparently ceased and machine gun nests fell silent one by one. An atmosphere of dread determination saturated the trenches as English, Scots, Welshmen, Canadians, and Australians united under one banner prepared for a final battle. Someone quietly began sing _God Save the King_ and soon the entire trench was filled with the sound of song in the face of overwhelming odds.

In that moment, Nicholas was more proud of his platoon than ever before in the war. A fatalistic last stand that recalled memories of the 44th Regiment of Foot in Afghanistan or the Battle of Rorke's Drift came to mind. Time seemed to slow as the wall of slavering green flesh waving their swords and axes drew nearer. Then he heard the sound of motor engines. In that moment, it was the sound of the glory so many men had gladly signed up for and never found. Until today.


	4. Chapter 4

**Gul'dan, de Facto leader of the Orcish Horde, leader of the Shadow Council**

**Earthside Dark Portal, April 13****th**** 1918**

Azeroth was not at all the place his master had depicted to him. Yes, he had expected a _blasted land _on the other side of the portal, but he had not anticipated two vast armies to be waiting for them. Gul'dan recalled the agitation that had briefly spiked in his master prior to a sudden withdrawal of contact. He came to the conclusion that this was not a ruse played by the master—something drastic must have happened to cause him to give slightly skewed coordinates. He could not tell this to Blackhand, leader of the Horde. Although he was highly malleable, he would spread news of the disaster to less malleable individuals. Furthermore, to admit they were on the wrong world would be a fatal embarrassment for him, especially as he had persuaded an entire race to come with him. It would wreck the tireless effort he had put into advancing his social position. He had backstabbed his mentor, he had backstabbed his race (not that they knew of it yet), and he was not about to be backstabbed by anyone.

Gul'dan had to do something. Reports came in everyday reporting mounting losses. The Horde as a whole seemed to disregard this but if they were to conquer the humans, they would have to play smart. Yes, they had entrenched the area immediately surrounding the Dark Portal and all human attacks caused little to no damage, but if they were to turn the tide, the Horde required the very weapons used against them. But how to go about it?

It was obviously not magic of any kind, merely far advanced forms of the weapons the Orcs themselves fielded. However, the Horde did not have the ability to manufacture any siege equipment or additional weapons. Indeed, the defences that were being set up necessitated swathes of the Tanaan jungle on the other side of the Dark Portal to be harvested. Then logically, captured weapons would have to be reproduced on the other side.

Considering that these humans sorely lacked magic, it would make sense to advance the importance of the warlocks, and thereby strengthening the position of the Shadow Council—its members primarily of warlocks. Warlocks had already prevented some of defeats from being far more devastating and had in fact managed to supress further human offensives for the time being. Just yesterday they had caught a human trying to sneak into their base. A hellhound had caught his scent and almost killed him before his handler arrived and instead locked up the human. Along with his person, they had captured one of the firesticks and two mallet like objects. Remembering his quest to reproduce the human weapons, Gul'dan concluded that only one weapon not enough since there was a chance they might break it before they could figure out how to make more. They needed more. Maybe the human knew a cache of weapons? Time to pay a visit to the cells.

**Feldwebel Tobias Reiniger, Stormtrooper**

**German Trench outside Ypres, Exactly the same time**

Tobias sat with his squad waiting for the intel to arrive. Yesterday had been a total disaster: one of the stormtroopers under his command had been captured by the orks before they could fully infiltrate the base. In his report, he had credited the lack of accurate information on the area as the primary factor for their failure. Someone up the chain of command had mercy (and a brain) and gave clearance for a zeppelin with fighter escort to provide reconnaissance over the orkish base. The fighters were necessary as various flying demons roamed the skies above the base, occasionally harassing the troops on both the British and Germans and flying off before the men could collect their wits.

A messenger came into the poorly lit room, flooding the dark confines with the dull brightness of the outside. In his hand was an envelope, which could only contain one thing. The intel had come. Thanking the messenger for completing his task, Tobias took the folder and spread the pictures on the table. At the very centre was the foreboding shape that could only be the Dark Portal. A wooden palisade ringed the area that enclosed several watchtowers and unidentified buildings. Artillery had been pounding at an invisible barrier that refused to crack for days now. Yet as proven yesterday, people could slip into it. It blocked things that exceeded a certain velocity?

_Gefreiter _Metz pointed at a spot in one of the aerial photographs. "That's where _Infanterist_ Herz was hiding before we lost sight of him."

"So some sort of patrol comes by this place."

"You saw those four legged demons they have, like rabid dogs."

"So the best thing is to completely ignore that place."

"Not necessarily, our mission is to provide more details to the information we now have as well as rescue _Infanterist_ Herz."

"We could enter the same way as before, from the unfinished portion of the palisade in the west."

"That is no longer an option, they either patched up the wall or posted more guards to that place."

"If they posted more guards, wouldn't that mean some areas now have less guards?"

"True. Do I have any suggestions?"

"There is a watchtower that's attached to the wall. If we can get rid of the guard before he alerts anyone, we can come in through a spot no one would expect."

"Any objections? Seeing as there are none, here is what we are going to do…"

**Garona**, **Orcish spy for the Shadow Council**

**No Man's Land**

Garona was doubly thankful for the warlock Gul'dan had provided her for this mission. Despite her initial misgivings, Numz'kull Phardeye was perfectly capable of shadow-based magic, cloaking both in an field of shadow that made them invisible to all but the most powerful of warlocks. If the warlocks learned how to be even stealthier, assassins like herself would be out of business. At the moment they were travelling to the location provided by Gul'dan. He had not said how he had gained this information, only saying that the source will now serve a higher purpose.

Garona cast that thought out of her mind to better focus on the task ahead. Despite being cloaked in shadow, physical disturbances like stomping heavily on rocks could still alert the humans. Numz'kull was keeping pace evenly, although he made much more noise. For a former shaman, the warlock was very quick to disregard the forces that he once worshipped. Then again, the spirits of the ancients abandoned them, so they had a right (she supposed) to completely sever all ties to their shamanistic heritage.

After another fifteen minutes of sneaking about, Garona and Numz'kull had safely passed the extensive human battle lines. Their target was in the human base nearby. Entering the base, they stuck to the shadows, avoiding the patrolling or loitering soldiers.

Upon seeing the building that fit the description Gul'dan had given her, Garona ushered Numz'kull to the rear of the building, hoping to find some sort of exploitable point. Then, turning around the corner was a soldier pulling down something in his pants. Just at that moment, Numz'kull lost control of the invisibility field.*

The soldier's eyes widened as he saw two orcs, one in black robes and another that was clearly a female materialise in front of his eyes. The one in black slumped to the ground in what appeared to be exhaustion. His thoughts sluggish, the soldier clumsily reached for the rifle slung onto his back. But the female orc dashed forward, a dagger in each hand. Two points of pain in the neck. For the brief moment before he lost consciousness, the points of pain seemed to draw towards each other.

Garona wiped the blood on her daggers off using the soldier's uniform. She found a small bush and, stealthily to lessen the risk of detection, stashed away the body and severed head of the soldier. After dragging the unconscious Numz'kull into another bush, Garona scaled the wall of the building, opened the window, and climbed in. There were over two hundred wooden crates stocked in the building. Climbing down and investigating their contents confirmed that they were the things Gul'dan had sent her to retrieve. Time to go wake up the warlock.

Once the warlock was inside the building, he drew a pentagram using the blood of the soldier and the human's head as an offering to the demons of the warp. Succeeding in his ritual, a dimensional rift to a storage dimension opened above the pentagram. Garona and Numz'kull then proceeded to shove some boxes into the rift.

After placing some twenty boxes in the pocket dimension, the large front doors of the building suddenly burst open and twenty humans rushed in, weapons raised. Garona drew her daggers and said to Numz'kull, "Get yourself back to base, I'll handle this." Numz'kull quickly complied and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Garona threw a throwing knife at the lead human, hitting him in the throat. He was dead before he hit the ground, a growing pool on blood on the floor. The soldiers behind him began to open fire, forcing Garona to hide behind one of the crates. A human was shouting something, _einfangen, einfangen_?**

Garona jumped, executing a backwards flip while throwing three more knives. Two hit their marks, causing the targets to slump to the ground. The last one was evaded, but in doing so, the soldier slid on the blood puddle and collapsed heavily onto the ground.

Six soldiers were attempting to flank her, three on each side. Making a decision, Garona threw herself to the feet of the soldiers on the left flank, confusing the flankers. In three quick slashes, she hamstrung each of them. Dashing past the men no wriggling on the ground in agony, Garona slipped behind some crates.

More soldiers were coming in now, obviously having heard the commotion. Garona attempted to get to the window, but someone released the rope net bound to the ceiling, causing it and several crates to come crashing down, trapping her.

As she struggled to get free, a soldier and someone who was probably their commander approached, the harsh light from the outside causing their faces to be shadowed.

"_Es ist eine Frau?_"***

**On the steps of the Violet Citadel, Dalaran, 529 King's Calendar**

For a major city, Dalaran was a monastery. Rather than being a political or commercial hive most cities eventually became, Dalaran was a place of learning and the citizens set on a quest for ultimate knowledge. Due to such ambitions, almost everyone had a strict schedule to adhere to that brokered no distractions. So imagine their surprise when a dishevelled old man materialised half a metre above the stairs to the Violet Citadel and landed heavily face first. Binksy Bolts, a student of the Arcane from Gnomreggan, hustled over to help the man up. Must have been a teleportation spell gone awry, she rationalised.

The man groaned loudly as she helped him to his feet. His robes were strangely those of an apprentice spellcaster of the Kirin Tor. Apprentices were never of the advanced age of the venerable gentleman to her side. Something was wrong. Then she looked at his face and her brows furrowed.

"Khadgar?"

"Binksy, it's good to see you." A gasp and a wheeze, "I need to speak with the Council."

* * *

*Numz'kull had at this point run out of mana and was using his lifeforce to sustain the spell. Just as he was about to deactivate the spell, the sudden shock of seeing the human delayed his deactivation, just barely going over the time limit for safe use of lifeforce-draining spells. That's why he fell unconscious at that moment.

** capture it, capture it

*** It's a female?


	5. Chapter 5

**Feldwebel Tobias Reiniger, Stormtrooper**

**Approaching Orcish Main Base, April 17****th****, 1918**

It had been little trouble reaching the targeted watchtower, having chosen to move during a British punitive offensive against the orcs. Now, Tobias was scaling the roughly constructed palisade, inching his way to the watch platform. He had chosen a squad of five to accompany him, which now formed a rough semi circle around the spot he had begun climbing from. They had been trained well: warily pointing their MP-18 sub-machine guns at different directions, looking for anything that could set off the alarm.

Tobias waited until the orc posted at the watchtower turned away for the briefest of moments, and in that moment leapt into the watch platform and stabbed the orc in the throat with his trench knife. As the orc fell, drowning from the blood pouring into his lungs from a bifurcated windpipe, Tobias leant over the platform and beckoned his squad to follow him up.

Leaving two men to maintain their control of the watchtower, Tobias had Gefreiter Metz and two others accompany him on a path down the structure. Fortunately, as the tower was a hastily constructed wood stack, there was little more to it than the platform, a roof, and a rope ladder, meaning that no more orcs could possibly within the tower. Using the information gleaned from the female orc spy, Tobias led the remainder of his squad along a path to the orcish prison, avoiding orcs and hellhounds.

The female orc, or Garona as she referred to herself in their guttural tongue, had been captured four days ago in the weapons cache by Hauptman Klaus, commander of the 50th Reserve Infantry, which had been guarding the cache. The capture of the orc and the subsequent interrogation had set back the plan so they may have the most information as possible before executing it.

Nearing the entrance, Tobias spotted two guards. Quickly dispatching them, the four Stormtroopers ducked into the prison. Once in, the squad fanned out, searching the cells for Infanterist Herz. Tobias passed by many unconscious men, their allegiance unclear as they were stripped of their uniforms. It was an odd situation as prisoners were generally conscious rather than the current situation. What could possibly warrant a prison population entirely put to sleep?

"No sign of Herz," it was Infanterist Schwallbach.

"None here," Gefreiter Metz.

"Schieße, were we given the wrong information?" Infanterist Goering.

"Look closely, one of the ones with their heads turned around could be Herz."

The door to the outside suddenly swung open and an armoured figure swaggered down the steps. Tobias gestured for the squad to form up behind him at the rear of the prison. It was Schwallbach who recognised the mysterious armoured figure first.

"Herz?"

It was Herz, but rather than the feldgrau fatigue Tobias was used to seeing him in, Herz was wearing maroon plate. A cowl of black covered most of his head and a massive bejewelled truncheon was strapped to his back. Herz lifted his head and Tobias winced internally at the piercing red eyes highlighted by the too pale face. It was the very image of a knight of death. When he spoke, it was like two people, Herz and one other more guttural than he, were speaking at the same time.

"My name is no longer Joachim Herz." Then he pulled the truncheon from its harness and held it in a two handed grip, his legs spreading into a ready position.

"KNOW THAT TERON GOREFIEND TAKES YOUR LIFE TODAY." With that, he charged the four Stormtroopers, truncheon raised to his right prepared to swipe the humans away.

Tobias felt nothing in that moment. Although he moved away from the incoming blade, t was like he was watching himself from a third perspective. The shock of seeing a squadmate turn into such an improbable type of enemy was simply too much to comprehend. If he survived this, he would like to ponder the new development with a tankard of quality dark malt beer.

Teron Gorefiend was a very loud opponent, roaring with each swing. He fought like a brawler, spinning around like a whirlwind, causing him to damage more pillars than men. Tobias gestured for Goering and Metz to take up positions behind Gorefiend while he and Schwallbach distracted him. Metz was exactly to the right of Gorefiend when the fiend suddenly reached out with his hand and a coil of green smoke snaked out of his hand and wrapped around the Gefreiter, instantly killing him. Gorefiend, on the other hand, appeared stronger than before.

"I have use for you!" Four shadowy constructs sprung from the fallen Metz and proceeded to chase the flanking Goering. Goering, bless his soul turned around to fire at the apparitions, dispelling three from the force of his bullets but ultimately falling to the lethal claws of the last construct. Four more constructs sprang from the still warm body of Goering.

Tobias broke from cover behind a pillar and poured bullets into the approaching ghostly-beings with Schwallbach joining in. They managed to destroy the shadowy constructs before the mob reached them. Then Schwallbach's head was a bloody pulp flying across the room. As the thing that was once Herz slowly walked forward dragging the truncheon on the floor, Tobias backed off slowly, firing in controlled bursts to no apparent effect. Gorefiend, in a single swift motion, scraped the bladed truncheon in an arc on the floor infront of him, setting the weapon alight, fuelled by the adipose of his former comrades. With a mighty roar, he brought the weapon above his head, ready to strike. Just like the battle with the orc at the beginning of this madness, Tobias dropped his gun and drew his trench knife, successfully dodging the strike and lunging forward. Gorefiend twisted to his right, and with the angular momentum generated, translated it into a backhanded punch to the face. Reeling from the viscous torque filled attack, Tobias barely had time to duck under the flaming arc that passed over the place his head was a moment ago. In the same motion as the crouch, he executed a roll into Gorefiend's legs, unbalancing the fiend and causing him to land hard on his armoured back. With one knee on the plated chest, Tobias raised his knife for a stab to the face but was interrupted by a well-placed kick to the stomach.

"ARISE MY MINIONS!" Gorefiend cried. With a grand sweep of his left arm, the bodies of the slain rose from their eternal slumber cut short, shambling towards Tobias.

Time to beat a retreat, thought Tobias. Dodging a surprisingly fast right-left slash from the body of Goering, Tobias scooped up his discarded machine gun, drew his Luger and blasted apart the head of the former Infanterist. Tobias bounded up the steps to the door, fireballs detonating near his feet. After what felt like an eternity to his adrenaline-addled brain, Tobias pushed open the door and ran back to the tower.

Shooting the a Hell-hound along the way, Tobias made sure to follow the same path he had taken to the dungeon as it ensured the least probability to be caught. Having reached the tower, Tobias grappled up the swinging rope ladder and found to his growing sense of defeat the bodies of the two men he had left to watch the tower. Crawling over the side and climbing down the palisade, Tobias mentally wrote his after action report.

**Blackhand the Destroyer, Warchief of The Horde**

Blackhand was in a foul mood. He had come back from a successful raid on the Human lines to the west of the portal and expected some rest. But alas, the burdens of leadership dictated that it was not to be. Gul'dan was, at that moment, in a prostrate position at his feet.

"What terrible slice of news am I to receive now, Warlock?" Blackhand drawled grumpily.

"My lord, we—"

"Let me guess, another coven of warlocks dead? A clan reduced to two babes? Draenor turning purple?"

"Actually, we have good news for once."

Blackhand leaned back on his throne, "Do tell."

"The Weapon has proven to be a complete success, having killed all but one of the incoming human raid."

"I recall you asking for lessened patrols around the area of the holding cells to test a new weapon of yours. Will be as successful on the battlefield as babysitting the prisoners?"

"Oh yes," Gul'dan gestured at one of the guards with a beckoning motion, "Send him in."

To Blackhand's surprise, the figure that walked in was no orc, ogre, or any race he had seen on Draenor as he had expected. What stepped into his presence was a human, a human with a too pale face.

"You dare bring one of the enemy into _my_ presence? I will—"

Then the human spoke, it was like two people speaking at once, "My lord Blackhand, I have returned to serve once more."

At that point, Blackhand recognised the other voice. It was one of Gul'dan's warlocks killed on the field of battle five days ago.

"Teron'gor?"

"I prefer Teron Gorefiend now, Warchief."


	6. Chapter 6: 1918 Timeline

I've decided to change the format of posting to mostly timelines and the occasional elaboratory story posts to help move things along. So bear with me, dear readers. The next three posts will be story posts.

* * *

**The Events of the year 1918 CE**

_Specifically after April 17__th_

**April 21****st****: **Manfred von Richtofen (aka The Red Baron) is killed in action in the skies over Vaux sur Somme after his 80th and final victory the previous day.

**April 23****rd****:** The Zeebrugge raid ends.

**April 24****th****:** A vast wave of orcs swarms the trenches surrounding the Dark Portal at sunrise. Although taking heavy casualties from artillery fire, the orcs manage to capture the German and British/Belgian lines after several hours of combat. The Germans form a defensive line five kilometres away from their original position. The British retreat to Ypres, which the orcs place under siege. The Third Battle of Ypres marks the first use of undead as a meat shield tactic as well as Death Knight infiltrators, which played a crucial role of sabotaging the defensive capabilities of the human lines. Retreating troops further note the occasional use of firearms amongst the orcs.

**April 25****th****:** Intense street-by-street battles in Ypres as the British hold against the orcish horde. The raising of former friends to undeath takes a massive psychological toll on defending troops.

**April 27****th****:** With summoned demons surrounding Ypres and orcs flooding the city, the defending British and Belgian troops fight to the last man. There are no human survivors. The flames consuming Ypres were reportedly seen up to ten kilometres away.

**April 30****th****:** Having picked clean the remains of Ypres, the orcs spread out across the countryside immediately surrounding Ypres. With orcs still pouring out of the Dark Portal, men and material are diverted to the defensive perimeter (radius of 10 Km from the Dark Portal) containing the growing threat.

**May 10****th****:** The Orcish Front stabilises after ten days of rapid gains and losses. No more orcs appear to be coming out of the portal. All orcs appear to be armed with firearms and a crude circular trench system has been dug.

**May 15****th****:** Greek troops land in Smyrna. The Finnish civil war reaches conclusion.

**May 22****nd****: **The level of Death Knight infiltration is made known when a force (gaggle? flock?) of Infernals and various minor demons is summoned into London. Mark II tanks slated for delivery to the continent are rushed to the battle.

**May 25****th****:** East End lies in ruins but the last of the Infernals is destroyed. The police are mobilised to hunt down all remaining demons inside London and to quarantine the city in case the infestation spreads.

**May 27****th****:** The 2nd and 3rd United States Army Divisions are diverted to the Orcish Front.

**June 1****st****:** The last demon, an imp, is killed in the London sewers after an intense battle that also sees the Death Knight responsible for the demonic invasion of London eliminated. Twenty three constables were killed in action. No identification was found connecting the possessed body with its original name.

**June 8****th****:** United States troops managed to capture and hold the charred ruins that once formed the Belgian town of Vlamertinge after nearly seven days of relentless orcish attempts at recapture. Entente and US troops begin closing in on Ypres. Meanwhile, a battalion of Mark IV tanks advance on Zonnebeke ahead of a German thrust from Roeselare. Air support plays a key role in ensuring the ease of the penetration by the armour force. By the time they reach Zonnebeke, the tanks are low on fuel and ammunition, but the slew of dead demons and orcs proves the effectiveness of the untested "Lightning Offensive". The infantry following the tanks quickly capture Zonnebeke.

**June 10****th****:** The human forces on either side of the Portal begin build up for a final offensive.

**June 15****th****: **At 0330 hours, a deadly cocktail of gasses are released upon the main orcish base around the portal, getting through the nigh impenetrable barrier. As chaos descends upon the invaders, five squads of twenty German Stormtroopers infiltrate the base. As they begin their assault, heavy artillery fire bombards the barrier, attempting to shatter it. At 0335 hours, the commander of the orcs in Ypres, Ogrim Doomhammer, makes the decision to gradually pull out and drive the attacking humans out. As the German forces massed near the portal move in on the orc base, the Entente decides to move on Ypres, despite not having received all requested supplies. At 0500, artillery fire has completely dismantled the barrier despite the frantic spellwork of the remaining warlocks. German tanks storm through the flimsy wooden walls, and with the support of fighter aircraft, catch up with the remaining storm troopers. In Ypres, Doomhammer calls for a full retreat to the Dark Portal seeing the ruined city as a lost cause. By 0600, German troops had cleared the enemy base of hostiles: the majority having fled through the portal, a significant minority dead, and the rest captured as prisoners of war. The British Expeditionary Force captures Ogrim Doomhammer with the remains of his army half a kilometre away from the orc base. When given the option of surrender, some charged the British and were gunned down, but many, including Doomhammer, chose to lay down their weapons. The Germans lost 50 tanks, ten aeroplanes, and 5000 men to casualties. The British and Belgians lost ten tanks, five aeroplanes and 1000 men to casualties. The Orcish Horde lost 50,000 orcs to casualties, 4000 captured, and 150,000 fled across the Dark Portal. So concludes the Fourth Battle of Ypres and the Assault on the Dark Portal.

**June 16****th****:** Having restored the Western Front to a semblance to normality, hostilities between the British and the Germans near Ypres resumes. All attempts to interface with the Dark Portal are met with failure as the portal had shut down at the end of the battle on the 15th.

**June 29****th****:** A provisional government opposed to the Bolsheviks establishes itself at Vladivostok, the Russian port on the Sea of Japan.

**July 10****th****:** Russian Soviet Federal Socialist Republic forms.

**July 15****th****:** The Second Battle of the Marne begins.

**July 16****th****: **Tsar Nicholas II is executed in Ekaterinburg along with his family.

**August 3****rd****:** Allied troops land at Archangelsk.

**August 6****th****:** Second Battle of the Marne ends.

**August 12****th****: **Germany loses the Battle of Amiens.

**September 26****th****:** Battle of Argonne, the last major battle of WW1.

**November 3****rd****: **Austria-Hungary is dissolved.

**November 9****th****:** Emperor Wilhelm II abdicates the throne. Republic is proclaimed in Germany.

**November 11****th****:** Armistice is signed. Hostilities end at 11:00 AM.

**December 9****th****:** French troops occupy Mainz.

**December 13****th****: **US army crosses the Rhine.

**December 20****th****:** The Allies turn their attention to Bolshevik expansion in the East, landing troops in Crimea and Latvia.


	7. Assault on the Dark Portal: Part I

**The Fourth Battle of Ypres and the Assault on the Dark Portal**

Part 1

**Sergeant Nicholas Howard, British Expeditionary Force**

**The Ruins of Vlammertinge, Belgium, June 15****th****, 1918**

_3:25 AM_

Nicholas eyed the charred ruins of Ypres from his post. It was a quiet night, the creatures of night having long fled the field of battle. The occasional shell still bombarded Ypres but it truly was one of the quieter of times on the front so far. The BEF had been stockpiling material in Vlammertinge for the final assault on Ypres since the 10th but due to the attack on London, many of the supplies slated for the front had been diverted and thus delayed. News travelled quickly along the front: apparently East End was a smoking ruin because massive flaming demons of stone had initially landed there. Had it not been for the force of Mark II tanks that were supposed to be here several days ago, the Infernals, as they were called, might have completely wiped out London. And there had been the subsequent battle in the sewers. It was like something out of Mr. Well's stories: invaders from the sky except it was the invaders hiding in the sewers rather than the human survivors. Apparently the constables had held their own fairly well, only losing around a hundred men during the entirety of the infestation. They also managed to recover the orcish infiltrator or rather, the human body of the orcish infiltrator responsible for the entire mess. The army had been put on high alert for particularly pale-faced men in their ranks. The problem was that so many boys from old blighty were so damn pale, the weather conditions of the isles making the average Briton paler than their continental cousins. Nicholas had only seen Death Knights up close during the retreat from Ypres last month. The boys they left behind there never came back, probably raised to undeath like so many others before.

Nicholas' thoughts were interrupted when a great reverberating boom sounded from the German position several kilometres off. Now he knew why it was so damn quiet, the Germans were preparing to attack. He had to let his superiors know at once. Calling a member of his squad to replace him, Nicholas rushed to the command tent.

**Blackhand the Destroyer**

**The Dark Portal**

4:30 AM

Blackhand smashed off the arm of the human soldier in front of him before making pulp of the body. Pure rage emanated from the warchief as he looked upon the treachery of the humans wafting in front of him. Gas. The blasted humans dared to use such a weapon in order to weaken the Horde so that it was ripe for reaping. Truly they had no honour.

"Saurfang! Deadeye! On me!" Blackhand bellowed.

The two orcs quickly dispatched their human assailants and hurried to the side of their leader.

"What is your command?"

"Follow me, we'll destroy these pests before the sun rises."

A storm of bullets burst from behind a building, mostly missing their marks or pinging off the heavy armour of the orcs. In light of the devastating effectiveness of these firearms, the orcs had been very slowly outfitted with heavy armour created by Blackhand's Blackrock clan. As proof of their superior craftsmanship, the little lead pellets rarely if ever breached the thick plates of blackened steel.

Roaring in rage, Blackhand raised his hammer and charged the hiding humans. Three puny humans fired their weapons while backing away. Breaking one gun with a swipe of the hammer and grabbing another, Blackhand then smashed one of the disarmed humans over the head. Saurfang lunged forward, skewering the other disarmed human in the throat. Deadeye was meanwhile engaged in a fierce duel with the remaining human, who was amazingly holding his own. He wielded a 90 centimetre long serrated blade with a large yellow gem embedded slightly above the hilt. It was most definitely looted for Blackhand had seen the quality yet boring swords of the humans and this was not one of theirs.

Saurfang stepped forward to assist but Blackhand stopped him, "Let him sate his thirst for honourable combat."

Deadeye swiped at his opponent with the sabre blade in place of his missing right hand, drawing blood on the lower leg. The human darted forward to the left but pulled his blade to the right in a feint but was blocked by a timely upward slash by Deadeye. Using he left hand, the orc heavily shoved the human backwards, causing him to stumble and fall. Rolling backwards quickly, the human got back to his feet before Deadeye could reach him. As Deadeye rushed forwards, the human unveiled his surprise: ten humans stepped from the shadows, five behind Blackhand and five behind the human.

Slashing diagonally with his sword but blocked yet again by Deadeye's sabre, the Human roared in his language: "Jetzt! Anschlag für das Vaterland!"

**Feldwebel Tobias Reiniger, Stormtrooper**

**Somewhere in the Orcish base**

"Now! Attack for the Fatherland!"

The three black armoured orcs before him looked uniformly angered, but how was that different from the typical? The trap had been a success; Tobias had managed to draw the apparent leader of the orcs into a carefully placed ambush where it would hopefully die in the overlapping field of fire. Leaning back, Tobias dodged an incoming slash for his throat. It was very difficult fighting with a sword while wearing a gas mask; the eyeholes did not provide a large field of view.

The plan of attack was simple: the Stormtroopers were to release a particularly deadly looking neurotoxin in strategic places all over the orcish base. They were then required to hold down the enraged orcs within their base until a massive artillery bombardment shredded the barrier protecting the area. The only problem they had encountered so far was that the gas didn't work as prescribed. Rather than outright killing the orcs, it managed to either put them to sleep or cause them to fly into a blood rage like the three prime specimens before him. Another slash. Parry and strike. Tobias scored a hit, slightly denting the armour of his one-handed enemy.

For this attack, Tobias had retrieved the enchanted sword he had… appropriated… on the first day of the attack. It had some interesting properties such as magnifying his strength ten-fold and increasing his agility. Tobias hoped to one day discover how to replicate these magics, God knows how much more easier cutting his dinner steak would become.

Knocking his assailant on the head with the flat of the blade, Tobias took a moment to take stock of the situation. The two other orcs had taken down one of his men but were wearing down under the unrelenting tide of bullets from five MP-18 SMGs. The large one did not have a helmet and thus was bleeding profusely from multiple near misses. It was only due to the bloodrage and its thick skull that it hadn't crumpled to the ground with mush for a head. The five other men behind Tobias were busy either shooting or reloading. Their assistance was very useful, keeping Tobias' assailant from capitalising on his admittedly flawed sword work. Had they not been there, their commander would have most likely been killed.

The one-handed orc, bleeding from multiple wounds yelled something in their foul tongue and charged forward. Tobias held his blade before him, hoping to spear the orc in his reckless charge. The orc's left shoulder suddenly snapped back, the force of the bullet pushing it counter to its momentum. Then the same happened to the right shoulder. As dozens of rounds found their mark, the enemy orc took the appearance of a puppet billowing in the wind before collapsing into a heap before Tobias' feet. With its final breath, the orc brought itself to one knee and took one final, hateful look at Tobias before falling to its side.

Tobias turned his attention to the remaining two orcs, now having killed the stormtroopers assaulting them. The smaller looked near to death but the larger one was filled with a fire that needed to be doused if the mission was to be successful. The eight humanoids stared down each other, unwilling to make the first mistake.

The smaller one took a step forward and pointed its sword at Tobias and said in heavily accented German, "You will die for your treachery, human for the strong shall inevitably smite the weak."

"You came to this world to rend and tear like you have done so before and succeeded beyond all expectations. But I say unto you, you have come to the wrong neighbourhood. Retreat back to whence you came from if you value your lives."

The larger one snorted, "Retreat? We've only just begun."

One of the stormtroopers began firing upon the orcs and soon the other four opened fire. The smaller of the orcs was quickly felled, his armour no longer capable of defending its wearer under the unstoppable tide of metal but the larger one charged forward, his hammer held to the side, ready to strike a final blow. Bullets pinged off the pitch black armour, no doubt of the highest quality for the leader of the Horde.

The orc swung his hammer in an upwards diagonal, contacting Tobias' waiting blade, which promptly shattered. Tobias was flung back, past the stormtroopers, and smashed against the wooden façade of another building. Reeling in pain, Tobias brought his gaze to where his men were hastily moving towards him, firing at the slowly approaching orc, its expression a mask of fury.

Then an orange glow danced across Tobias' face. Looking to the sky, Tobias realised that night had changed to morning over the course of the battle. As the first rays of sunlight cut across the charred battlefield and thick smoke, a great crack like a cabinet of china falling to the ground blasted throughout the base. Tobias had heard that sound many times over the course of his battles against the orcs and praised the heavens for this final reprieve: the barrier over the orcish base had finally cracked.

Meanwhile, the orc seemed to realise the same thing and his face screwed itself into the most hate and rage-filled expression Tobias' had ever seen. Roaring in anger and a bit of anguish, the orc charged forward like a doomed man as artillery shells began falling all over the place. Just before the orc could reach the remaining stormtroopers, he was crushed underneath an artillery shell.

One of the stormtroopers looked at Tobias' his gasmask giving him an otherworldly quality. "Herr Feldwebel, you must be the luckiest man on Earth to be saved by so many coincidences."

"Yes, its almost like something up there is watching out for all of us."

One of his men moved to the smoking impact zone, the shell still intact. "Looks like a dud, sir."

Tobias got to his feet, "See if you can't set it off once we're in the clear. Also, what about that other orc."

"He's not quite dead. Do you want us to take him with us?"

"Too much weight. Put him somewhere where we can collect him after this whole thing is over."

"On it sir."

Tobias looked over the collapsed roof a circular building and gazed at the looming purple gate that was the source of this mess. Once the threat was over on Earth, Tobias vowed to take the fight to the orcs.

End of part 1.


End file.
